


February

by JPKenwood



Series: Dominus Calendar Series [1]
Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Ancient Rome, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, M/M/M, Master/Slave, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPKenwood/pseuds/JPKenwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Roman general reunites with his best friend and secret lover, a Roman lawyer. Later that evening, the men share the delights of Gaius's blond pleasure slave, Nicomedes.</p><p><b><i>February</i></b> is an 'extra' story featuring characters from the historical fantasy series, <i>Dominus</i>. Events in February take place four years earlier than the events in <b><i>Dominus</i></b> (Book 1 of the Dominus Series). February is the first story of the new <b><i>Dominus Calendar Series</i></b>. </p><p>Dominus is a historical fantasy saga with sex, plot twists, angst, humor, love and intrigue. While nearly all details are historically accurate and the story is tied to major historical events and prevailing cultural attitudes during the reign of the Emperor Trajan (AD 98-117), the tale is entirely fictional and the dialogue is deliberately modern in flavor. This is a complete three scene short story.</p><p>For information about more stories in the Calendar Series, the Dominus series, character profiles, story snippets and more, check out the Dominus blog at: http://jpkenwood.com</p><p>© 2013 and © 2016 JP Kenwood, All rights reserved</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**FEBRUARY**

**Scene 1**

 

**_AD 103, Gaius Fabius’s seaside villa, Campania_ **

****

****

Disgusted with his procrastination, he viciously raked his fingernails across his scalp in a futile attempt to scratch some fucking motivation into his thick skull. Two months earlier, he’d left those wild, rugged mountains for the long journey home to Italy. The brutal war between Rome and Dacia had ended abruptly and without clear victory. The emperor had agreed to an untenable peace with the mad Dacian king; everyone now waited for the inevitable second conflict to begin.

And here he was, the commander of the Lucky IV Legion. Avoiding his domestic duties. Waiting for the inevitable. Fidgeting the time away in his office at his tranquil holiday home on the Bay of Neapolis. After rubbing his face, Gaius propped his elbows on the table and let his eyes wander up to the swirling pattern of laurel wreaths sculpted in stucco on the ceiling.

After a few moments of nothingness, he grumbled to himself, “Focus, you fucking negligent sod. Only two…”

He glanced down at the short stack of wax tablets on his desk and sighed.

“Shit, three more lists to examine.”

Reviewing expenditures was a tedious but necessary chore. This much silver coin for thirty amphorae of olive oil, that much bronze for five sacks of lentils. Keeping a watchful eye on his household accounts was his duty as Dominus, his primary responsibility as the father of the family. He’d be damned if he neglected his obligations through sheer laziness and wound up squandering his hard-won fortune.

When he reached for one of the remaining wax tablets, Gaius spied the marble portrait of his father scowling at him from a niche high on the wall beside his desk. Nearly twenty years earlier—gods, had it been that long—a gang of opportunists in the Senate had accused his father of treason. The palace guards barged through the door of their ancestral home in the dead of night and dragged Quintus Fabius to his unceremonious execution. No trial, no magistrates, no opportunity to plead his innocence. Gaius had been twelve years of age when his father had lost his head. In all the years since, he’d never missed him. Not once.

Gaius snarled at the portrait head. “Spying on me, Quintus? I’m fulfilling my damn duties. Stop staring at me, you luckless dead bastard.”

A powerful gust blew into the office. One of the window shutters creaked before slamming against the wall with a bang. Outside, the sky was overcast and grey—another damp, bleak February day on the western coast of southern Italy. The sheets of drenching rain had finally stopped; a frigid mist now blanketed the rocky coastline.

It had been cold that terrifying night as well, Gaius suddenly remembered. Goose bumps raised the chestnut freckles covering his thick forearm. Thanks to his mother’s loyal friends, they’d found safe passage out of the city that night and escaped the murderous reign of the tyrant Domitian and his lethal agents. During their flight from Rome, Julia had told him that he was the last descendent of his father’s patrician family. The only surviving legitimate male offspring of the once mighty Fabii clan. If he didn’t produce a son, the bloodline would end with his death. For all the years since, Gaius carried that onerous weight on his shoulders with dignity, resignation, and resentment. History would forever judge his victories on the battlefield against the glorious deeds of his legendary Fabian ancestors.

The ghosts of Rome’s past refused to be forgotten.

But his ancestors must be proud, no?

During the recent war against the Dacian menace, Gaius Fabius Rufus had performed valiantly. Emperor Trajan had even awarded him a ceremonial Dacian falx for his bravery. The exotic weapon was a skillful forgery, but the emperor’s intentions had been noble.

Perhaps.

Would the next war finally bring him a victory worthy of public celebration and feasts? Could he lead Rome’s glorious conquest and defeat the barbarian menace? Could he bolster his family’s famous but fading reputation? Could he secure his claim to the imperial throne?

He rubbed his temples and groaned. Too much thinking. Too many damn possibilities to consider.

In one corner of his office, the flaming orange wick in an oil lamp suspended from a tall bronze candelabrum cast shadows that danced across the frescoed walls. Wrapped in a thick woolen cloak, Gaius flipped over another tablet. The edge of his silver cup, filled to the brim with honeyed wine, had almost touched his lips when the captain of the villa’s guards rushed into his sanctuary.

“Commander Fabius, my—my sincerest apologies. I asked Counselor Petronius to wait in the atrium for a proper salutation, but he…”

“It’s not your veteran’s fault, Gaius. You know better than anyone what an impatient prick I am.” Lucius’s rumbling words sliced through the frosty air. “By gods, where are my manners? Greetings from Rome, my most esteemed Commander Fabius.”

Gaius froze mid-sip when he heard the affectionate tone in Luc’s deep, sexy voice. Slowly, he swallowed a hefty gulp of sweet wine. After placing his cup on the desk, he turned his chair around, licking his lips.

“This is most unexpected. Greetings, Lucius Petronius Celsus!” As he stood up, Gaius shook out the folds of his mantle with one eye assessing the demeanor of his guest. Lucius appeared relaxed. His slightly slanted smile was friendly and warm. Gaius exhaled. At least the reason for his friend’s sudden visit wasn’t to deliver dire news from Rome.

“Varius, tell the kitchen staff we have a guest. You’ll stay for dinner, Counselor?”

Leaning against the wall by the office door, his burly arms folded casually across his chest, Lucius waited until Varius was safely out of earshot.

“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me, soldier,” he finally replied with his irresistible seductive cheek.

A few inches taller than Gaius, Lucius’s straight, coal-black hair was cut shorter than the last time Gaius had seen him, but his steely light blue eyes were as intoxicating as ever. Shit, even in his thirty-third year, Luc was gorgeous, even more so than he’d been back in Athens all those seasons ago—back when they were young men basking in young men’s dreams, slogging through their philosophy studies, spending most of their time larking about in bed rather than attending their lessons.

Lucius Petronius had aged well, like a delectable Sabine wine.

Gaius fought the smile threatening to lift the corners of his tightly pressed lips. “What the fuck are you doing down here? Why didn’t you send word ahead of your arrival?”

“We both know how much you adore surprises, Gaius. Surprise!”

“There’s no bad news from the capital?”

“I didn’t travel all the bloody way down here to upset you. If I’d had bad news, I would have sent a letter,” Lucius teased before wagging his finger. “But I should warn you, my dearest friend, that our mindful Empress noted your absence from the Lupercalia celebrations. She told each and every one of us at the dinner that evening how discontent she was with your behavior. I was forced to hear her rant after the main course, after she’d already imbibed more wine than she should have.” Lucius lowered his voice and pointed to his mouth. “She spat on my face every time she drunkenly lisped your name. Bloody disgusting.”

A smile forced its way through Gaius’s frown. “Sounds delightful. Sorry to have missed it. Did our sharp-eyed, spitting queen openly question my devotion to the gods before the entire court?”

Lucius laughed out loud. “Never! Your piety is above rebuke, Commander.”

“Indeed.”

Everyone connected with the palace, including Luc, had long been aware of Gaius’s skepticism and distaste for silly archaic rituals, no matter how entertaining they might be. As far as he was concerned if there were gods pissing about up on Mount Olympus, the bastards were an impotent or indifferent lot. Most days Gaius hadn’t a clue if the old gods existed. Nor a care.

“You mock me, Lucius, but Empress Plotina will be relieved to know we celebrated the Lupercalia down here at the villa. I have the bloodied whips and tattered goatskin loincloths to prove it.”

Lucius raised one dark brow and smirked as he tilted his head. “Don’t tell me I’ve missed all the fun?”

“I’ll arrange something special to amuse you, Counselor.” Gaius glanced at the empty hallway to be sure they were alone before crossing the room to brush his fingers down Lucius’s strong jaw.

“You spoil me, darling,” Lucius cooed as he leaned into Gaius’s touch.

“But you haven’t answered my question, have you?”

“You mean, how did I come to be here? When I’d learned your ward brother was traveling to Campania, I requested permission to accompany Publius’s entourage for the journey. I must admit our furry Greekling does secure the best travel lodgings, the lucky twat.”

Gaius took three steps back and asked with alarm, “Publius is down here in Campania as well?”

“He’s residing in Neapolis.”

“May Neptune shove his fucking trident in my eye! Soon he’ll send those perfumed party invites: ‘Gaius Fabius, please accept my invitation to swoon over my latest atrocious attempts at lyric poetry.’ Bloody tedious—but I’ll survive his antics as long as I’ve plenty of his splendid wine. But why are you here, Luc? I thought you were busy with imperial demands at the palace. Have you become Publius’s new catamite?” Gaius jested sarcastically.

“Publius’s whore? Hardly, Commander. I’m not young, androgynous or Greek. Alas, he’d never have me. I’m too…” Lucius lifted his forearm to cover his eyes in a silly flourish of feigned heartache. “I’m too decrepit and too Roman for our bearded Princess Publius.”

“And too tall, I suspect.”

“Do you think so?”

“He’d demand a ladder, and a gilded one at that. But no, I don’t think your abnormal height would deter him. Publius has pined over you for years—ever since your family attended that dinner party at the palace to celebrate my return from North Africa.”

“And at that gathering, as I vividly recall, you amused yourself at my expense by shamelessly encouraging your brother’s blatant flirtations.”

They both smiled at the memory.

Lucius Petronius Celsus.

Gaius’s best friend and loyal confidant.

Together they’d navigated the murky waters of the political quagmire that was Rome. Every nobleman needed trusted associates to stay afloat and alive. Luc was Gaius’s peer, even though his plebian family bore none of the blue-blood ancestry or authority of the distinguished Fabii.

And Lucius was Gaius’s long-time secret lover, when it was convenient and extremely discreet. They both paid mind to the antiquated law prohibiting sex between free adult men. A generation earlier, the damned emperor Domitian had used that archaic decree as a political weapon to destroy the reputations of many prominent Roman senators. Even though the despot had been dead for seven years, citizens’ fears over accusations of unchaste behavior remained palpable.

“I’ve been fine-tuning my Publius impression, Gaius. Let me show you.” Lucius cleared his throat and raised the pitch of his deep bass voice. “I must leave for a holiday in Neapolis, Emperor Trajan. I’m simply suffocating here in our cramped, squalid imperial palace!”

When Lucius skipped about the office with both arms raised like a dancer to spice up his impersonation of Publius’s notorious prancing, Gaius doubled over. He hadn’t laughed that hard in far too long.

“You—you, my friend, should have been a stage actor, a celebrated performer of ill repute, rather than a lawyer, jeopardizing your fucking sanity by prosecuting unscrupulous miscreants.”

“I’m merely playing my part in the pantomime that is life, Gaius.”

“And playing me, I suspect. I’ll ask you one more time. Why are you here at my villa, Luc?”

“I wanted to see you, talk to you. A letter seemed too impersonal for my second attempt at an apology,” Lucius answered, cupping his hands over his mouth to warm them. He was shivering.

“You rode here in that torrential rain, didn’t you? By gods, you’re soaked. Let’s get you out of those wet garments.”

“Best offer I’ve had in far too long.” Lucius chuckled as his teeth began to chatter. He strolled over and wrapped his arms around Gaius’s waist. “Care to strip me yourself, soldier?”

“Atticus, get in here!” Gaius pushed Luc away from him moments before his trusted but clumsy villa custodian skidded into the office.

“Dominus?”

“Atticus, escort our drenched visitor from Rome to our best guest room and fetch him a change of dry clothes. He clearly needs a bath and a shave as well. I’ll see you, my dear Lucius Petronius, in the winter dining room. Don’t keep me waiting. I’m curious to hear this latest version of your apology.”

Smirking, Lucius shook his head. “Yes, Dominus.”


	2. Chapter 2

Unlike the grand halls of his ancestral mansion on the Caelian in Rome, Gaius Fabius’s winter dining room at his seaside villa was neither large nor opulent. He preferred it that way—simple and functional.

Spartan.

A soldier’s retreat.

In addition to the requisite three couches encircling a round serving table, the dining space boasted a row of windows judiciously positioned along its southern wall designed to take full advantage of the sun’s heat. Sadly, the sun hadn’t shone for several days. The damp chill of February’s rainy season had bitten everyone to the bone.

After Gaius had slipped off his sandals, he brushed his bare toes across the floor, enjoying the warmth from the radiant heating system circulating steam beneath the white marble slabs. Diligent Atticus had stoked the furnaces to the correct temperature in anticipation of dinner. Gaius took great comfort knowing that Atticus and his veteran guard, Varius, kept his beloved estate running smoothly during his lengthy absences away on campaign.

He peeled off his woolen cloak and threw it over a stool. Clad in a thin, ivory tunic, he surveyed the room and smiled.

“Damn good to be home.”

Stretching his legs along the length of the middle dining couch, Gaius cradled his whiskered chin in his palm. He hadn’t had the patience to sit for a proper shave that morning.

His attention gradually settled on a pastel painting of a flying Pegasus decorating the opposite wall. The room was cozy, filled with the distinct scents of rain-soaked earth and olive oil burning in lamps hanging from the walls. The smells reminded him of one of the last times he and Lucius had been alone, away from the prying eyes of the insidious palace spies.

They’d been dining together in Rome, not two months before Gaius left the capital for the wilds of Dacia. Their cordial banter had quickly dissolved into a pissing match. Squabbles over petty bullshit like who had written the last letter or some other fucking triviality. Insults were lobbed, and more promises broken. Ever since Gaius had returned from his military training in Macedonia all those years ago, he and his bull-headed lover argued more passionately than they fucked.

Whatever there’d once been between them had perished.

They’d grown up.

Time to end to this risky, illicit affair.

They were too old now and the stakes too high for this puerile horseshit.

While Gaius lay there, recounting the nasty barbs they’d tossed back and forth, three of his household servants scurried into the dining hall and arranged drinking cups, bowls of treats, and plates of warmed food on the marble table positioned in front of the dining couches. After he’d adjusted his heavy balls, Gaius rolled forward and snatched a morsel of braised pork off a silver platter. Perfectly seasoned, he noted with satisfaction, as he licked the spicy coating from his fingers.

“Starting without me again?” Lucius asked from the doorway as he rearranged the thick folds of the borrowed, dark blue mantle wrapped around his torso. “By Jove, it’s delightfully toasty in here.”

Unlike Gaius, Luc had foregone the tunic underneath. When the cloak fell open, revealing the lawyer’s muscular chest and the ripples of his naked abdomen, Gaius gnawed his lower lip and nodded his approval.

“Greeting, Counselor Petronius. You took your sweet time washing up, didn’t you?”

“Your private baths are most enchanting, Commander. You should have joined me.”

Without waiting for a proper invitation, Luc marched to the couch on Gaius’s right. He grabbed an empty silver cup off the marble table and gracefully unfurled his tall frame across the burgundy and yellow cushions.

“Wine.”

A servant immediately filled his raised vessel to the brim. After downing a drawn-out, quenching slurp, Lucius placed his large hand on Gaius’s freckled forearm and squeezed.

“Why did you leave Rome so soon after you’d returned from the Dacian campaign? I hadn’t seen you in over a year, and yet you left the city without warning. Why?”

Gaius swallowed before he lied.

“I’ll admit it was inconsiderate of me not to visit the Quirinal to bid you farewell, but my war-weary bones craved the serenity of Campania and the affections of my boys. Gods know I’d left Maximus alone and neglected for far too long.”

“You’re always running away from me for one reason or another.”

“I had to escape Rome, Luc. Not you.”

“Right. How is our dear Ethiopian, then?”

Thank the cruel gods Lucius decided to change the subject. Gaius didn’t have the energy for a bitchy brawl.

“He’s well. Maximus seems relieved to have me home. He’s spent every night since my return warming my bed. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him.” Gaius rubbed his finger back and forth over the raised figure of Dionysus on his metal drinking cup. “How many days do you intend to stay down here?”

“Anxious to dismiss me so soon? Not to fear—I’ll only be in Neapolis for a short while, Commander. There’s an important trial scheduled to start after the Kalends.”

“Always the dutiful magistrate.”

“I’ve obligations, don’t I?”

“We all have obligations, Counselor Petronius.”

Silence.

What else was left to say?

Either Lucius was preoccupied with tedious legal proceedings in Rome, or Gaius was off strategizing battle tactics at some shithole frontier camp. Their youthful passion had deteriorated to an uneasy burden. Declarations of everlasting devotion had faded to weathered, splintered memories.

Silently, they picked at the generous spread of food.

The quiet was awkward.

Nothing had been awkward between them back in Athens.

The overcast, late afternoon sky grew dark. After washing down a healthy bite of bread with another gulp of wine, Lucius placed his hand on Gaius’s shoulder and rubbed the thin fabric of his tunic in lazy circles with his thumb.

Just as his friend was about to speak, Gaius stated flatly, “I’m still angry.”

“I know you are, and I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

Closing his eyes, Gaius tried to rein his bridled displeasure.

Despite his honest efforts, he failed. Again.

“Fuck you and your apologies, Lucius. You ought to have been on campaign with me, as I told you to do. I’d ordered you to serve by my side!”

Although they’d been trained to remain invisible and silent, the trio of domestic servants shuffling in the far corners of the dining room cowered with fear. Gaius shot them a stern glance and grumbled, “Leave.”

Without making a sound, the slaves scampered out of the hall while Lucius scrubbed his face and sighed dramatically. “Gaius, listen to—”

“I am second in command of the damn armies, Lucius Petronius Celsus! You may be the emperor’s chief counselor, but I’m still your fucking superior.”

“I’m well aware of that, Commander. I had thought we’d agreed long ago you wouldn’t shove your superior rank in my inferior face.”

Lucius rubbed the deep creases of his forehead with two fingers. A heavy tapping noise drifted in through the windows; the cold, pummeling rain had returned. “You damn well know why I stayed back in Rome, darling. The bones I’d broken in that riding accident hadn’t healed. When you’d ordered me to prepare for the campaign, I fucking tried to mount a horse and nearly broke my other arm! Our most judicious Emperor decided I’d be more use to him back at the capital, tending the tribunals. And besides, I’m worthless on the battlefield these days. I can hardly swing a sword correctly anymore.”

Gaius tossed back more wine; the liquid trickled slowly down his throat. After a long pause, he countered, “I wasn’t ordering you to fight the Dacian mongrels. We both know those savages would have killed you in an instant. I—I wanted your companionship.” As his voice trailed off, Gaius winced at the pathetic tone of his confession.

But it was true.

There had been many nights—too many to count—when Gaius had desired more than the purchased body of an anonymous camp whore. He wanted comfort. Someone to talk to after the soldiers had fallen asleep in their barracks. Someone to hold when those invisible forest creatures screeched and wailed, when the legion’s guard dogs growled at whatever evil inhabited the pitch-black darkness of those eerie Dacian woodlands.

“I relish your companionship as well, Gaius, but I prefer not to spend months on end stationed at a desolate fort only to waste my time serving as your useless sideman.”

Lucius paused to pick his words carefully, as lawyers do. “Gaius, our time on campaign together has been less than, well—” Luc looked over his shoulder at the empty doorway. “ _Worthwhile_ , darling. We’re interrupted day and night by your troops, by your arse-kissing junior officers, and every other blathering fucker who shows up at your headquarters. When, by the gods, have we ever enjoyed a moment alone while on campaign?”

“You bloody well know we can’t expect any privacy when we’re in the field. That’s not the point.” Staring at his silver cup, Gaius turned the vessel and ran his thumb pad over the muscular torso of a sculpted naked hero.

“So what is the point then? You wanted me to travel with you to the barbarian wilderness to fucking keep you company?” Lucius scoffed before softening his words. “My brother was there in Dacia, fighting by your side. Was Titus not a pleasant enough companion for you, Commander?”

Hurt and resentment colored Luc’s question. Gods, not this blasted rubbish again.

“Titus is my first Tribune, and a damn fine one at that, but he doesn’t warm my bed. He never has and he never will. Your brother is my comrade, my loyal officer. Nothing more.”

“Then the rumors are false?” Lucius asked cautiously.

“Of course they’re fucking false! Titus is besotted with his comely wife. The fool doesn’t even own pleasure slaves, Luc. And we both know he’d never willingly bend over for another man, no matter the circumstances. It’s not his nature.”

“My dear brother would do anything his lionhearted leader ordered him to do. He fucking worships you.”

Gaius rolled his eyes in frustration. “I’ve only shared my affections with you, you daft ox. You know better than to pay any mind to baseless camp gossip.”

“Then you’ve never…?”

“No.”

“Not even—?”

“I would never order Titus to do anything of the sort. He’s not _that_ attractive,” Gaius added with a chuckle. “I’d never betray you, Luc.”

Lucius sighed with relief. “All right, I believe you. But Gaius, darling—I know what’s truly angering you, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Do you, then? Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me?”

“Would you fucking stop fondling Hercules for a moment and listen to me. If I’d gone to Dacia with you—if I’d done what my ravishing commander ordered me to do, against our emperor’s bidding, mind you—then I wouldn’t have married Aurelia. You’re furious I did so without your consent. Am I right?”

Shit.

Gaius grunted and looked away. “I don’t care that you married. By Mars’ blue balls, I’ve been married close to three years now. It doesn’t make a bloody difference.”

That blatant fiction left a bitter taste in his mouth. Gaius swallowed another swig of wine before turning to stare into the hypnotic black holes of Lucius’s light blue eyes. “You never offered me the chance to object. There I was, stationed in the armpit of Dacia, and a letter arrives from Rome informing me you’ve married Aurelia. No elaboration, no hint of an explanation. For shit’s sake, Luc—of all the eligible women you could have chosen, why the fuck did you marry that calculating weasel? Had she bewitched you with some sinister potion?”

Lucius snorted softly. “Oh, Gaius—I’m truly sorry my marriage has upset you. And yes, she’s conniving and pompous, but Aurelia has her merit. Empress Plotina is very fond of her, and Plotina has many powerful friends. Influential men of high standing in the palace. Our queen’s approval of my matrimony elevates my status within the court. Listen, darling. My feelings for Aurelia, whatever they may be, don’t compare to what we’ve shared.”

Shared.

Past tense.

Shit, it was long past the past tense. He’d lost Lucius years ago. To that impudent Caledonian catamite, Bryaxis.

Lucius massaged Gaius’s bicep and continued, “She’s with child, so my new bride will be occupied with an infant and a wet nurse soon enough.”

“She’s what?” Gaius gasped, unable to suppress his shock. “You fucking impregnated her?”

“Alas, yes. I fulfilled my unpleasant duty. Fortunately, the goddesses required only one, um, _offering_. I surrendered my seed and now her belly’s swelling at an alarming rate. Her mother swears by Juno that Aurelia’s carrying twins, but that’s neither here nor there. As long as one’s a boy and the sprout survives, right?”

“Congratulations on your impending fatherhood, Counselor,” Gaius begrudged.

“Listen, I’m sorry… fuck, I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for! How’s this? I’m sorry I married a woman you despise.” Lucius hushed his voice. “I wish you liked your wife.”

“You insolent bastard! I cherish my wife. Marcia and I have the perfect arrangement. There are appearances to be maintained at the palace—official responsibilities and clearly defined boundaries. My patrician wife and I enjoy an ideal political marriage. You’d do well to watch and learn, my friend.”

“But nearly three years and no children, Gaius? The palace rats are whispering rumors in the corridors, speculations that Marcia is cursed with a barren womb. Perhaps if you and her spent more time—”

“Enough!” Gaius snapped.

“And I’ve just crossed one of those boundaries, haven’t I? Your union with Marcia is none of my concern, just as mine is none of yours. We do what Rome demands of us.” With a frown, Lucius dipped his long pointer finger into a bowl of smooth cheese mixed with herbs, and commented sarcastically, “Quite the expensive fare you’ve provided for your humble guest this evening, soldier.”

“Hedonism brings on gout. You spend too much time at dinner parties scarfing down imported, gut-rotting rubbish. This food is produced here on my estate. That ambrosia you’re lapping up is made from the milk of my prized goats.”

“Ha! Of, course. Your infamous Campanian goats! How could I have forgotten? I'll admit this concoction is bloody delicious.” Lucius scooped up another dollop.

Gaius shook his head, deciding it best to further lighten the mood. He and Luc may have lost their adoration for each other, but they still shared a love for laughter. “Aphrodite and Apollo adore my creamy cheese, you know.”

“I’ve heard those vulgar rumors, you swine.” Lucius winked as he rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “So, am I forgiven for staying back in Rome while you were off smiting the enemy? Do you forgive me for marrying your least favorite weasel, my jealous Adonis?”

Laughter and lust.

The lingering vestiges of their decaying affair.

“I’ll grant you temporary pardon, but only because I want to fuck your scrumptious, idiotic plebian arse. Understand?”

“Understood, Commander.”

Gaius’s half-engorged cock twitched under his tunic; Lucius arched his brow when he glanced down and noticed.

“I expect my forgiveness will disappear once you cock things up again, which shouldn’t take long.”

“Prick.” Lucius spat back with a chuckle before he sucked the rest of the soft cheese off his finger. “Speaking of delicious treats, do you keep that golden-haired faun of yours down here?”

“Are you referring to Nicomedes?”

Waving a hand, Lucius shrugged. “The blond scamp. When I was down here last, you didn’t offer me the chance to taste your new kid, you selfish goatherd.”

“His name is Nicomedes, and yes, he’s here. I’ve settled him in the stable house with Maximus.” Gaius swallowed and asked the unspoken question nagging his brain. “Tell me, why didn’t you bring your dear concubine along with you? Max would have enjoyed seeing Bryaxis.”

“Bry wanted to join me for the trip down, but I couldn’t risk the chance our greedy Princess Publius might demand Bry’s affections. I won’t share him with anyone.”

“Except with me.”

Luc smiled. “Except with you, soldier. I’ve shared much with you I don’t dare share with anyone else. But let’s return to discussing your blond boy. By the gods, I only saw that beauty for a few moments during my last visit, and I’ve dreamt of those vibrant blue eyes of his ever since.” Lucius shuffled closer and lowered his tone. “Perhaps we could both play with him tonight?”

Luc planted a soft lingering kiss on Gaius’s lips, before pulling back to flash his cutest pout. “Only if it pleases you, Commander Fabius.”

“You are fucking difficult to resist.”

“Would a threesome please you, Gaius?”

“Oh, you damn well know it would, but Nicomedes hasn’t been made privy to our bedroom secrets. And the poor lamb hasn’t fully recovered from his previous master’s abuse. He’s been mine for over a year, and he still cringes in my presence. Granted, I’ve spent most of that time away on campaign. I’m only now starting to gain the boy’s trust, Luc.”

“Ah, you’re too soft, Gaius. He’ll love it. We’ll make sure he has a wonderful time. Undivided attention from two benevolent Roman masters should stiffen up his lovely cock—I mean, confidence. Yes?”

Lucius had a point. A pleasurable night of undivided attention and adoration might strengthen the former brothel whore’s burgeoning self-assurance. Perhaps if Gaius revealed his secret affair to Nicomedes, the skittish lad might feel more secure. More valued. Maximus had long known Gaius and Luc were lovers, as did Bryaxis, of course.

By Hercules, how he did enjoy worshipping a beautiful bed warmer with Lucius. Not as much as Lucius fancied three-way frolics, but damn close. Unfortunately, he and Luc only shared boys. The dandy counselor had never expressed any interest in playing with girls. Quite the opposite, much to Gaius’s disappointment.

“You wish to adore my tasty blond faun with me, hmm? What would your pregnant sow say if she heard such salacious filth roll off her distinguished husband’s tongue?” Gaius jested while Lucius drained the last burgundy drops from his cup.

“Who gives a shit? Aurelia’s a bitch. It’s settled, then. We’ll devour your golden boy for dessert.” Lucius winked and lifted his cup, hollering over his left shoulder. “More wine! Wait—your servants aren’t here. Where did they all go?”

With a sly grin, Gaius pointed to the side table behind them. “Do you see that wine jug on the cupboard, plebian? Get off your indolent arse and serve us both.”

 

~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Standing outside the closed door, Nicomedes removed his leather shoes and wrung his chilled hands to settle his nerves. Gods, he was excited—anxious, but excited. His new master rarely called him to the playroom.

Ever since the auburn-haired general had returned from the war, Nic worried his master would sell him. Despite half-hearted reassurances from Dom’s favorite concubine, Maximus, he'd been troubled by nightmares. Terrifying, jagged dreams of being dragged back to town and hauled up onto the auction block at the slave market. During Nic’s early years growing up in that whorehouse in nearby Neapolis, he’d only known cruelty, pain, or at best, cold indifference. His previous master had purchased him from the brothel’s pimp for a pittance; the savage beatings he’d suffered at the hands of that cruel monster had left permanent scars on his shoulders, his back, and his mind.

Now at the age of twenty, comfortably settled here at this posh seaside villa, he never wanted to leave. Other than the nightmares, he was happy for the first time in his short life. It was an odd feeling—happiness. Nic was adjusting, learning to enjoy these strange sensations of calmness and contentment. And he had a job. A splendid job, unlike washing down the whores' stone beds or sucking cock for a piece of brass. When he'd returned to his villa, Dominus had awarded Nicomedes the somber responsibility of offering the morning sacrifices at the small altar in the kitchen garden. Nic never forgot to pray to the household gods for his new master’s health and success. Dominus was his savior, the powerful man who’d rescued him from the terror of his painful childhood. He didn’t deserve such good luck, but somehow the Fates had granted him a new life.

A better life.

A much fucking better life.

He took a deep breath as he studied the swirling patterns of knots in the wooden door panels. Earlier, while he’d been preparing to leave for the main house, Max had informed him that Dom was entertaining a gentleman guest from Rome. How would the night unfold, Nic wondered? Would Dominus fuck him first and then pass him over to his guest? Or maybe the other man would enjoy him first for Dom’s viewing pleasure? Nic already knew Dom loved to watch his boys play together as a warm-up for the main event. He’d become well acquainted with Max’s enormous and gorgeous black cock.

But Dominus hadn’t requested Maximus this evening, just him.

His first solo performance for the general.

He wrung his hands again and exhaled.

Shit, if he delayed much longer, he would earn a flogging. Nicomedes raised his fist, took another deep breath, and knocked on the massive, dark door.

“Enter, lamb.”

Nic smiled at the raspy caress of Dom’s voice. He shut the door behind him and padded gracefully to the center of the lamp-lit room. With his eyes cast towards the mosaic floor, he dropped to his knees and waited for direction.

“Nicomedes, you look divine,” his master purred.

Nic’s long hair hung down past his shoulders in thick waves of sandy silk. He’d washed it twice before Max shaved his face and body smooth. Since Dominus preferred his boys unadorned, he didn’t bother with any garish cosmetics or dangling baubles his former owner had fancied. Before he’d set out on the long, freezing walk from the stables to the main villa house, Nic had wrapped himself in a winter cloak that fell to his ankles. Underneath he’d chosen to wear the near-transparent, gold-threaded sleeveless tunic Dom had purchased for him at the luxury market in Rome. Secured by two pins at the shoulders, the sheer costume showed off his tanned body. The expensive outfit was the first gift he’d ever received—from anyone.

“Rise and acknowledge our esteemed guest, Nicomedes.” Nic detected a faint slur to Dom’s brusque words.

After he stood up, Nicomedes slowly lifted his eyes. A strange, attractive man was sprawled out on the large bed—Dom’s special friend from Rome. The dark-haired visitor sat with his back against the wall at the far end of the mattress, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his indigo cloak open. Nic’s gaze lingered over the man’s naked fit torso.

“This is my dear associate, Lucius Petronius Celsus.”

Over to the left of the bed, Dom sat slouched in a cushioned chair; his casual, short tunic was hiked up to the tops of his sturdy, hairless thighs. His curly hair, backlit by the lamps on the walls, glowed a dazzling fiery red. Burgundy wine sloshed in silver goblets dangling from both Romans’ hands.

“You may not remember, but you’d once met Counselor Petronius shortly after you'd arrived here at my villa. My dear friend has again traveled all the way from the capital. He’ll be staying with us for the night—perhaps longer if the gods permit. Greet him with a smile, lamb.”

Nic nodded, his eyes downcast in respect. “Greetings, sir.”

“And where’s that smile I was promised, boy?”

The soothing tone of the stranger’s lush voice caught Nic by surprise. He lifted his chin and smiled as sweetly as he could muster given that his lips were quivering. The man was brawny and tall, with huge hands. Nic’s knees shook uncontrollably, trembling worse as he fought to control them.

“Nicomedes, what’s wrong?” Dom asked.

Nic’s eyes opened wide as he tried to figure out exactly what he should say. Shit, what did his master mean by that question? And how, by the gods, did he not remember meeting this handsome Lucius man? The questions clogged his brain to the point where Nic forgot to reply.

“Answer me. Has something upset you? Are you frightened?”

Nic cleared his throat. “Um—no, Dominus.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“I don’t know, sir. Perhaps it’s the dampness, Dominus?”

“Perhaps. Do you know why Maximus is so beloved, Nicomedes?”

“Because he’s divinely handsome, sir?”

“Ha! Yes, indeed. And because he’s loyal and divinely prudent. Maximus understands when to hold his tongue. I expect you to be just as trustworthy. You will not discuss what happens here in the playroom tonight with anyone. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Dominus. I understand completely.”

“Good boy.” Dom waggled his eyebrows at his friend and laughed. “He understands—completely.”

Dom was clearly a bit drunk. And judging by that glazed look in those piercing grey-blue eyes, this Lucius man was pickled as well. Servicing a pissed master and his sloshed friend could get tricky.

“Come over here and kneel at my feet," Dom ordered, his lustful gaze admiring Nic’s bum. "But first, remove that blasted cloak.”

Dom’s guest raised his cup in approval. “Splendid suggestion, soldier.”

With what he hoped appeared an elegant gesture, Nic unclasped the brooch. The thick mantle fell from his shoulders to the floor. He stood in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, feeling like a gilded statue on display.

“I swear by Jove—he’s too bloody beautiful to be mortal!” Dom's guest exclaimed.

“Nicomedes, is that the dear frock I’d bought for you in Rome? It looks more splendid on you than I’d anticipated. I may just have to take you to a dinner party in town once the warm weather arrives. Come here, lamb.”

Nic’s tensed muscles relaxed with each step as he glided over to his master’s chair and sank to his knees, his head bowed in a mixture of submission and relief. Dom gently cupped Nic's chin and lifted his face.

“Nicomedes, listen to me carefully. Lucius and I are going to worship you tonight.”

Gaius bent down and kissed Nic on the forehead, rubbing the copper hairs of his late day stubble against Nic’s smooth skin. “I will be in charge the entire time. There’s no need to be afraid, no cause for you to tremble. You are mine and you are safe. I will protect you. Do you understand?”

Nic closed his eyes and nodded with a hesitant smile. “Yes, Dominus.”

“Excellent. Now let’s enjoy this splendid evening. Go and give my dear friend a taste of that sinful mouth of yours. Luc’s desired you for quite some time. Let’s reward the old bastard for his uncharacteristic patience.”

After Dom ruffled his hair, Nicomedes walked over to the large bed and climbed up on the mattress. He licked his flushed lips while straddling the man’s hips. Nic had been a prostitute for most of his short life. He knew how to play the part of the coquettish courtesan. Smiling, the man gently grasped Nic’s long blond mane and pulled him down for a deep, probing kiss.

The Roman’s mouth was warm and passionate. The taste of smooth, expensive wine left Nic dazed. When Dom's friend broke off the kiss and removed his fingers from Nic’s hair, Nic lost his balance and fell back, landing on the man’s huge, stiff prick. It throbbed through the fabric of the stranger’s cloak, pressing against the sensitive crack of Nic’s barely covered bum.

Dom’s friend reached down and took hold of Nic’s hand. His expression grew serious as he raised it to his mouth. His warm breath brushed across Nicomedes’ knuckles.

“If Commander Fabius ever mistreats you, promise you’ll send word to me in Rome. As the most revered chief barrister in the imperial service of our victorious Emperor Trajan, I will gladly punish the brute, my darling boy. You have my honorable word, my undying promise.”

As the last of the tension slowly drained from his taut muscles, Nic giggled at the absurdity of the outlandish oath. Send this man word? Shit, he could barely read let alone write. Nicomedes covered his mouth, startled and embarrassment, but neither his master nor his Roman guest seemed troubled over his inappropriate outburst. Everyone was at ease and burning with desire.

Lifting his tunic over his head in one fluid motion, Dom strode to the other side of the bed. He laughed as he ran his hand down over the defined muscles of his abdomen before scratching the chestnut curls framing his full balls and his thick, heavy arousal.

“Pay him no mind, Nicomedes. Counselor Petronius is fucking incorrigible and justly envious. Let’s show our guest just how bloody talented your mouth is, pet.”

His master climbed behind Nic and grabbed hold of his thighs, pulling him down the length of the guest’s long body. The golden frock shifted until it bunched up around Nic’s chest. When Nic’s mouth was hovering above the man’s pulsing cock, Dom pressed his lips against the sensitive skin behind Nic’s left ear and whispered, “Suck his prick for me, Nicomedes. Take control with your mouth. Make this plebian scoundrel mewl like a helpless kitten.”

After pushing down the man’s ample foreskin and planting a few soft kisses on his shiny swollen head, Nic swallowed his length in one wet, smooth motion. The stranger tightened his grip on clumps of Nic’s hair; Nic winced but made no sound.

“Mother of the fucking gods, Gaius!”

His nose nestled in the man’s ticklish black pubic hairs, Nic smiled around his thick girth when he heard Dom humming with appreciation behind him. Nic wished he could see Dom’s face—see the pride in his master’s smile.

As his mouth slid up and down the lawyer’s iron-hard shaft, Dom crept up the mattress and pressed his cheek against Nic’s face. “Don’t be greedy, lamb. Share his spear with me.”

“Huh?” Nic gagged in disbelief. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right. Romans didn’t suck each other off; they had slaves for that. Fellatio between free men was illegal or something.

“You’ll learn a few secrets tonight, Nicomedes. Secrets you will not share, correct?”

With the head of the man’s member filling his mouth, Nic nodded.

“For a start, your poor, noble master suffers from an addiction.” Dom pulled the engorged prick out from between Nic’s lips and held his friend’s shaft like a lever, comically tilting it back and forth. “A most dreadful disease struck me a long time ago, back when I was merely an innocent youth ripe for corruption.”

Dom’s voice sounded silly.

The stranger chuckled. Nic almost did as well.

“You see, my sweet Nicomedes, back when I was a seventeen-year-old neophyte attending school in Greece, I became curiously enamored with this grotesquely gigantic plebian cock.”

With his heavy, steel blue eyes staring down at them, the handsome guest chuckled again. “You’re so fucking romantic, Gaius.”

Dom blew his friend a mock kiss before continuing, “Remember, my sweet Nicomedes. My addiction to cock sucking is a secret. Do not say a word.”

With his forefinger pressed to his lips, Dominus winked at Nic and then masterfully slid his friend’s impressive erection down his throat. When the man began to groan like a crazed animal, Dominus stopped, wiped his mouth, and rose to his knees. With one hand wrapped around the stranger’s spit-covered shaft, Dom patted his friend’s sweaty chiseled face. “I’m not giving you release so easily, slut.”

“Sadistic fucker,” The Lucius man whispered with a grin.

By the most holy Penates! Dom and this man were lovers, teasing and playing with each other. His master had allowed Nic to join their naughty game.

Dom had trusted him with his secret.

Nic’s heart began to race. He’d been accepted into Dom’s private world, into his family.

Nicomedes had a fucking family.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be sold after all.

He wanted to shout with joy, but instead, tears welled up in Nic’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, lamb,” Dom said. “Here, you can have this bastard’s monstrous pole back. But lick it. Don’t suck. Counselor Petronius is not allowed to come yet.”

“Yes, sir.” Nic snorted as he wiped his eyes. “Thank you, Dominus.”

Dom kissed his mouth and stood up. Nic could feel the heat of his master’s feline eyes watching as Nic glided his wet tongue up man’s thick, throbbing vein.

“Perfect, Nicomedes. Don’t give him any more than that. I want to watch this handsome idiot suffer frustration for his daft nuptials.”

The guest feigned a whimper. “I fucking said I was sorry, Gaius.”

Dominus laughed before grabbing hold of Nic’s arse cheeks. He spread them wide apart and observed, “So bloody perfect. Such a mouth-watering crevice of delight.”

Nic nearly choked when Dom’s warm tongue began to lick and poke his bum hole, teasing him stupid with every wet stroke. No one had ever kissed his arse like this before. Nicomedes closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on pleasuring the stranger’s throbbing cock.

Dom’s kisses stopped.

“Luc, pass me that bottle of oil on the table.”

“Did you say something?” The man managed to mumble after regaining a fraction of coherence.

“Toss me the damn oil, Lucius.”

With a groan, the lawyer hurled the tiny glass container towards Dom. It landed with a soft thud in the small of Nic’s back.

“Good aim, counselor. Perhaps you should try throwing a spear instead of wielding a sword.” Dominus snorted. After circling Nic’s rim with his oiled fingertips, Dom glided three fingers into Nic’s hole, withdrew and then pushed them in again up to his knuckles.

“Ah, you’re fucking hot and tight! Sing for me, Nicomedes.”

As Nic moaned and rocked his hips, Dom searched with curled fingers until he located Nic’s sensitive bump. He rubbed back and forth over the fleshy nub inside Nic’s arse while grazing his teeth across the backs of Nic’s thighs. Nic groaned and writhed from the burning pleasure of his master’s talented, demanding hand.

“Such an obedient, delicious pet,” Dominus mumbled against his flushed skin.

After Dom had removed his fingers, wiping them on the man’s cloak, he grabbed Nic's long hair and pulled his mouth away from his friend’s glistening shaft.

“What are you doing, Gaius?” Dom’s lawyer friend protested.

“My turn, Erastes. I’ll trade you his mouth for the pleasure of his oiled arse.”

Dom snarled as he flipped Nicomedes around to attend to his aching erection. As he pushed his engorged head between Nic’s full crimson lips, the dark-haired stranger lifted Nic’s bum up in the air and impaled him in one long searing thrust. Nic gasped around the girth of Dom’s member.

“For the love of Minerva, his arse is exquisite.”

After several moments of relentless pummeling, Dom’s friend reached down and jerked Nic’s head up. Dom’s cock slipped out of Nic’s mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing, Luc?” Dom protested.

“I won’t allow you to empty your balls into the boy’s mouth, Eromenos. Just lie there and watch me pound your pretty little pet. Your superior patrician cream belongs to me, whore.”

Nic gasped.

No one spoke to Dominus like that.

With his long prick buried deep in Nic’s arse, the man slid his muscular left forearm under his chest. He lifted Nicomedes back until Nic was straddling his lap. Snorting with lust, the stranger rubbed his nose across Nic’s shoulders and nibbled up and down his long neck.

“Don’t leave any fucking marks on my property,” Dom warned as he stretched out on the mattress with his hands clasped behind his head.

Sucking and kissing Nic’s damp skin, Dom’s friend raised the whisper-thin gold fabric over Nic’s face and tossed the gossamer garment to the floor. He began expertly stroking Nic’s prick hard and fast as he hammered him. Nic felt his orgasm building when the stranger mumbled into his ear. “Come for me, beautiful boy. Squirt your salty milk all over your gorgeous rascal of a master.” The man lowered his husky voice. “Soak the fiend in your juice.”

Nic’s whole body tensed in anticipation. He couldn’t feel his legs or any other unimportant body bits, only the strong strokes of the Roman’s firm hand and the intense burn of pleasure every time the man’s generous cock slammed into him. His head fell back against the guest’s broad shoulder and he cried out. Pulses of hot seed raced up his length and shot out in thick white streams, splattering Dom’s bare torso.

“By the gods, he sprays better than a fountain statue! Fantastic, Gaius—bloody spectacular fuck toy, my friend.”

Nic could barely talk. His tongue wouldn’t work, and his fingers and toes tingled. Flashes of ecstatic light blinded his sight. As the last of his strength drained away and his body began to crumple, the dark-haired man hoisted him off his erection and quickly bundled him up in the dark blue cloak. Cradled in the man’s arms, Nic was carried him across the room like a child and deposited gently on a cushioned bench by the balcony.

“Hush, now.” Dom’s guest whispered as he stroked Nic’s hair. “Close your eyes and surrender to sleep, sweetheart. Remember my promise. No one will ever abuse you again.”

Smiling, Nic mumbled in gratitude and rolled onto his side, drawing his knees up to his chest.

 

~~~

 

“Nicomedes is lovely, isn’t he?” Gaius boasted, tracing circles in the pools of Nic’s semen covering his chest and stomach. “And I’m not selling him to you, so save your breath.”

On hands and knees, Lucius climbed across the bed. Drops of sweat dripped off his dark hair as he grabbed Gaius by the wrists. He brought Gaius’s hand up to his mouth and sucked Nic’s salty release off his fingers before invading his lover’s mouth with his tongue. As they kissed, Luc rubbed his aching hardness back and forth against Gaius’s stiff prick.

“Then I’ll have to settle for you, Commander Fabius. Remember when you were my compliant little catamite, soldier?”

“Those days are long gone, plebian.”

“Ah, but I have memories.”

“Sweet memories of Athens,” Gaius murmured wistfully. “Gods, we were so damn young. So naïve.”

 

~~~

 

Nic had nearly dozed off when loud sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and wood creaking in agony filled the room—a chorus of wanton grunts and snarling snorts and curses to all manner of divinities. He urged himself to stay still, but curiosity was a powerful and dangerous temptress.

With the folds of the indigo cloak and his flaxen hair obscuring his spying eyes, Nic watched in wide-eyed amazement as his master sucked the lawyer’s large cock. The man arched his back and emptied his balls down Dom’s throat. Dom rolled his friend over on his stomach and viciously impaled his arse until they both cried out. A few moments of quiet passed before they resumed their sensual wrestling. Without warning the lusty duo rolled off the mattress, falling to the floor with a loud thump.

“Argh—shit! Get off my fucking arm, you oaf!”

“Quiet, soldier. You’ll wake the boy.”

Their muffled laughs became soft moans.

“All right. That’s enough of this fucking freezing floor. Let’s get back on the bed, Luc.”

“Yes, Commander.” Dom’s friend answered with a giggle.

Nic rolled over and shut his eyes. Did Max know Dominus and this Lucius fellow fucked each other? Had Maximus known all along that Dom had a secret lover?

Shit.

The stranger mumbled through a yawn. “How I adore wrapping my arms around you after a hard, satisfying fuck.”

“You should have been in Dacia with me, Lucius.”

“Yes, I should have been there. I’m sorry, darling.”

Their moans and kisses faded to silence.

When he heard Dom and his guest snoring, Nic wondered if he should slip out of the room but decided against it. Better to pretend he’d been deep in dreams the entire time.

Be invisible.

Know nothing.

Survive.

 

~~~

 

Stirred out of heavy slumber by the bright morning light, Nic rubbed his drowsy face awake. Across the room, his master was seated upright on the bed, staring down at a creased note clenched between his fingers. A single trail of tears glistened on his cheek. There was no sign of the dark-haired guest named Lucius. Dom’s friend must have departed very early.

“Dominus?”

His master wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re finally awake. Good morning, lamb.”

“Good morning, Dominus. May I ask a question, sir?”

“Go on,” Dom answered with a gentle smile.

“Is everything—is everything well, Dominus?”

“Things are as they always fucking are.” Dom sighed and waved the scrap of papyrus. “Letters from my old friend invariably contain unfortunate news. But look outside, lamb. The sun has finally returned. Enjoy Helios’ warm rays during your walk back to the stables for your morning meal.”

Groggy and confused, Nicomedes froze.

Dominus’s nostrils flared, but his voice remained calm. “Leave, Nicomedes. Return to the stable house now.”

"Yes, Dominus."

Nic scrambled to his feet and quickly wrapped himself in the cumbersome indigo mantle. He didn’t look back while he closed the door behind him. As he walked down the corridor towards the service door, he heard a hollow metallic object slam against a hard surface behind the playroom door. Nic hastened his noiseless steps.

 

~~~

 

Running his fingers through his sloppy mop of morning curls, Gaius read the letter again as he gnawed on his lower lip.

 

_To my dearest Gaius._

_Alas, I’m forced to pull myself away from you and your warm bed well before the sun rises. I’m deeply grateful you’ve accepted my apology. The gods have blessed me with a most loyal associate._

_You deserve to know the true reason for my unannounced trip to Campania. I trust you will safeguard my words. Our revered Emperor Trajan dispatched me to Neapolis under the pretense of a seaside holiday. I’m under orders to covertly investigate a troubling matter concerning the town magistrates…_

 

“For shit’s sake, Lucius. You could have told me your real purpose when you’d arrived. Now it’s clear why you didn’t drag your arrogant whore to Campania with you. You’re here on imperial business, and I—I was a convenient fuck. You tell me what I wish to hear, and I believe you. Nothing’s changed. It never will.”

After he refolded the note, Gaius threw back the bed covers and stood up. The crisp morning air tickled his bare skin. He marched over to the portable bronze brazier resting on the floor by the alcove, and jammed the letter into the smoldering coals. A flurry of cinders rose up, clouding the golden sunbeams streaming in from the terrace.

As the flames grew, incinerating Lucius’s note to silvery ash, Gaius whispered, “Your confession is safe, Lucius. And last night's frolic was the final fucking time. Never again, my old friend.”

A lie. An empty promise he knew he’d never keep. But the words tasted sweet on his tongue.

Gaius poured himself a serving of undiluted wine. After clearing his throat, he raised his cup southward in the direction of the town of Neapolis. “To your good health and safe return home, Counselor Petronius. May blessed Fortuna protect both us wretched bastards! Farewell, Lucius.”

 

 

####


End file.
